mending things
by tomhollandprotectionsquad
Summary: turns out, jeremy cant stay away from michael for long and he definitely cant keep bottling up his problems


**trigger warning: anxiety**

The night is eerily quiet, Jeremy has discovered. Sitting on the edge of his roof, he can't help but think of the things that had gotten him there in the first place. He couldn't stop thinking of all the things that had happened and how he could even possibly start to fix things.

He actually thought he could fix things? Yeah right.

Turns out, repairing relationships wasn't as easy as he thought. Explaining what the squip did to him, what lead to him to get it, what made him trust it; all of it was so hard to explain, and he had no idea where to start.

It doesn't help that he hasn't told Michael about the worst of it. Maybe that's why he hadn't been talking to him lately, he hadn't told the entire story.

He missed his boyfriend.

Scratch that, he missed hisbest friend.

A star blinks in and out of sight, and somehow Jeremy finds that he can relate. It was like the blinking light that showed you the bulb was about to go bad, it was the flickering of a dying fire, it was the flashing numbers of the bomb that some criminal had just set, numbers quickly counting down.

5

4

3

2

1

And everything was gone.

A sigh escapes his lips as he closes his eyes, thinking of a world where everything was infinitely more straightforward, feelings included.

At least, maybe then he could have gotten the words out.

Maybe then he wouldn't feel so alone.

But maybes didn't matter. Not now.

Jeremy glances back through the window at his phone that was sitting on the small table near his bed. The screen was dark, but he could feel it calling him, telling him that he had to do it, he had to say it before it was too late.

And as if it had sensed his uncertainty, the screen lights up, a new notification appearing on the screen.

Carefully, he crawls back over the windowsill, and he heads towards the device.

It feels warm in his hands as he unlocks it, quickly checking the useless notification. Then he finds his finger hovering over the messaging app. His lower lip finds its way between his teeth as he wonders if he should text Michael.

He shakes his head, setting it back down on the table.

"I can't," he whispers to himself in the safety of his room. His voice cracks a little as he continues, "I can't do it."

Jeremy finds himself sitting on his bed, staring out the window at the still flashing stars. And somehow, his phone finds its way back into his hands. He doesn't remember getting up or grabbing it.

A hand reaches up, and his fingers rake through his hair, then it goes back to laying on the bed. The fingers on his other hand take to tapping on the case nervously, an excess of energy suddenly filling his limbs, and he stands back up, electing to pace around the darkened room instead.

He glances at the lit-up screen, thinking, so what? Worst case, he hates me and never talks to me again and best case scenario he understands better.

He presses the icon.

* * *

"So, you called..." Michael trails off, the tension surrounding them so dense and prevalent, that Jeremy was afraid they couldn't be fixed, that all that worrying was for nothing, that the conversation was too overdue.

Jeremy nods, voiceless, staring at the mismatched colors of his socks.

Michael stands up from the desk chair then, a blank look on his face, an expression Jeremy had gotten used to in the past few weeks. He turns towards the door, but he stops at the last second to speak, "If you aren't going to say anything, then you shouldn't have bothered to-"

"Wait." Jeremy's shoulders hitch, and he can feel a sort of fight or flight response kick in, and now he has to get it out, he has to get something out, has to make him understand-

Michael is looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to say the "magic words," but Jeremy finds that the words are blocked in his throat. He can't speak, but he has to get something out there, and he can't just sit here while Michael walks out of his life.Just do something, Heere-

"It wouldn't let-" Jeremy looks away and lets out a breath before trying again. "It would block you sometimes." Michael fully turns back around, a confused look now set on his face.

"But you-"

Jeremy cuts him off. "I lied." Then Jeremy gets the strange urge to look at his boyfriend - or ex, Jeremy doesn't know at this point- to look him in the eye, but he refrains from it. He doesn't want to see Michael's reaction anyway.

Michael looks to the side awkwardly. "What else have you lied about?" There's a new sort of fire in his eyes now, one built of feelings of betrayal and, somehow, guilt.

The well of words that had been stuck in Jeremy's throat had seemingly vanished now, leaving him with nothing. He knew it was going to backfire, he knew, but he still couldn't seem to tell Michael the truth at the hospital. Michael essentially knew nothing at this point, just the things that he had gotten out of Rich.

"I'm sorry- I-I-" the words are lodged in his throat, blocked by a barrier that Jeremy himself had put up to avoid talking, or even thinking about the entire squip debacle. He can feel the frustrated tears forming in his eyes. He has to say it, he has to get him to-

Micheal's expression darkens, and he looks away. "Maybe you shouldn't have te-" Jeremy cuts him off.

"I- It was most of it." His right hand rubs the wrist of his left arm anxiously. "I- I didn't mean to at- at first, but it- it just- I couldn't-" More tears form in his eyes, and he can't stop them.

You should have told him. You should have told him. You should have-

A hand lands on his shoulder, startling him out of that certain train of thought. His hands fall from where they had been gripping his arms tightly, nails breaking the skin. His high-strung nerves now aware of Michael and how he seemed to be looking at him in pity andno don't look at me like that, I can't take it when you look at me like that-

And then Michael's arms are around him. Jeremy lets out a watery, surprised laugh as he buries his face in the crook of his boyfriend's neck. They stay there for a moment, Jeremy trying to push down his urge to cry at how fuckingnicehis boyfriend- or ex- really is. His hands are bunched up in the red fabric of the other's hoodie, slightly shaking as he tries to reign himself in from making even bigger of a fool of himself. Not that Michael would mind if he did.

Then, when he feels mostly put back together, Jeremy pulls away and wipes at his eyes. "Tha- thanks." He glances away from his best friend as he says it.

Michael's hand finds his as he speaks up. "You don't have to talk about it, not now, at least, but eventually?" Jeremy nods, still looking away.

"It's just- It's hard to know where to- to begin. At the beginning or at the worst of it?" Jeremy finally glances at the other boy as he talks. "You know?"

Michael nods. " I can't say I understand all of it or know where you're coming from, but I can say I'll try." Jeremy gives him a small smile.

"That's all I could ask for."

* * *

**ok! this was a request from someone on ao3 and i think it turned out pretty well!****pleas tell me what you think!**


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